Extinguishing the Flame
by Shini02
Summary: Discontinued. Slightly AU. It started with a simple cough but turned out to be something far more serious than Pyro could have ever imagined.
1. Chapter 1: Just a little Unwell

**Disclaimer:** I do not own X-Men: Evolution. Duh.

**Notes:** This is based off of an RPG I'm part of. So, yes, that explains how and why Catseye (and a few other characters that are not in the Evo-verse) appear in this fic.

As of _Friday, September 15, 2006_, I have decided to call it quits on this - for now. The last update was _Friday, August 23, 2005_, it's been over a year since I've touched this story. This fic doesn't interest me the way it used to and I just don't have the motivation, or inspiration, to do it anymore. There is a _small_ chance this may be continued, someday. Keep your fingers crossed, those who have faith.

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**Extinguishing the Flame**

Five o'clock in the morning. An ungodly hour for any one person to wake. Especially by one's own body. John woke with a jump as though he had just had some sort of horrible nightmare. Cold sweat beading his rather warm forehead. He blamed the weather. Lately it had been unbearable hot during the day, then freezing at night. But that was the end of summer for you, wacky weather. Instantly he brushed the sweating and fever off as some sort of flu.

He could tell from the way he was panting, and the sudden bout of dizziness he would not be able to get back to sleep. Sighing, he hauled himself out of bed, silently hoping he didn't disturb any other members of the Brotherhood. He didn't feel like being pestered right now, especially by those immature gits he was forced to call his team-mates.

He ended up downstairs, in the living room. He turned on the television, hoping to find something to entertain himself with. But honestly, what's on at five AM on a weekday? Absolutely nothing. Once again, a sigh escaped him and he tilted his head back. Debating whether or not he should take some sort of medication, he furrowed his brow. He analysed himself mentally; the sweating stopped, but was replaced by something like a hot flash. It was hot enough to be considered fever... A fever throughout his entire body. It felt like his body was on fire.

Figuring the two second stroll to the bathroom just might be worth getting rid of this...bug he had, he hoisted himself up off the couch. Lazily, he walked to the bathroom. His feet dragged against the wooden floor; he didn't have the energy to lift them all the way. Once in the bathroom, he opened every single cabinet the room had to offer, inspecting them. "Figures," he mumbled to himself, glaring at the cabinet, "no bloody meds." Resisting the urge to slam the doors to the cabinets shut, he calmly closed them. John glared hard once at the cabinet again, then left the bathroom, heading for the kitchen. Maybe a glass of water would calm him down. No way would it lower his temperature, but it would calm his suddenly raging nerves. Maybe.

He let the water run for a few moments, waiting for it to get nice and cold. While the water ran, he opted to retrieve a glass from the kitchen cupboard. Surprisingly, the glass he picked out was clean, and in one piece. Not even so much as a chip, dent or scratch. Must've been one from the new set of dishes Mystique had oh so nicely bestowed upon the Brotherhood. He held the cup under the running water, and let it fill. Once full, he removed the cup from the stream of water, and turned off the tap. He absent mindedly pulled out a chair at the table and sat down there. Too lazy and too tired to walk all the way back into the living room.

Since Catseye slept in the room right beside John's, she had woken up when she heard him get up. It helped having feline like hearing. But, oh man was it annoying when she was trying to sleep. She simply laid there for a moment, and let what she heard register in her mind. She was only beginning to understand humans, and a lot still confused her. But when she heard the T.V. turn on, and the water run, and John not come back upstairs, she slowly figured something might be wrong. Considering it was just past five AM, and John didn't seem to be going back to bed, she knew something had to be up. No one got up that early and stayed up. Not even Mystique...

In her were-form, she stretched a few times, though her posture was still cat-like. Even if she was awake, and slightly concerned, she was lazy. Like any feline, she was usually always lazy. Yawning softly, she moved herself off of her bed, and headed out into the hallway. She rubbed at one eye sleepily as she walked into the kitchen clad in her pajamas. Which were simple black shorts, and a loose fitting tank stop.

"Pyro?" She murmured quietly once she reached the thresh-hold of the kitchen. That had been one of the first words she learned. Pyro. She knew it was something John called himself, and something others called John. She knew it was a way to address the Aussie and it usually got his attention. When John didn't answer, she morphed into her house cat form. Like any cat in a slight hurry, she frolicked over to the man she saw as her owner. John had found her, saved her, taken her in. The first man not to abuse her with harsh words, or beat her with blunt sticks. Catseye rubbed against John's legs gently, mewing.

John had been in his own little world. No coherent thoughts ran through his mind at this moment in time. His blue eyes were locked onto the liquid in the cup in front of him. Almost as though he expected an answer to an unasked question to appear in the stillness of the water. But when he felt Catseye rub herself against his legs, he was snapped back to reality. Slowly, he pushed the chair out, and looked under the table at the tiny feline. "Whot're ya doin' up so early, sheila?" He asked, but spoke softly. No way he wanted anyone else up. Catseye was an exception. She was one of the few people he managed to call a friend and trusted with his everything. So far, only two people had the title of being the pyro's friend; Mystique and Catseye.

John pat his lap, inviting the cat up onto him. When he did that, Catseye immediately jumped up onto his lap. She gave a tiny mew, answering his question. Even if he couldn't understand 'cat', she could still answer him the only way she really knew how to. She rubbed herself against his body for a moment, happily nuzzling his stomach. But something, more specifically a scent, caught her attention. It was emitting from the Aussie, and it intrigued her. She gave a tiny mew as she tilted her head to the side for a moment. She had no idea what this smell was... and she wasn't quite sure she liked it. Cautiously, she leaned in and pressed her tiny nose to John's stomach. Slowly, she followed the scent upwards, along his chest, until she reached his mouth. The scent was apparently strongest on his breath.

John cocked an eyebrow the second her nose had touched his stomach. She had smelt him before, but never so... intently. "Whot?" He asked, gently picking the cat up off of his lap. He now held her out in front of him, eyebrow still raised. He figured she could just smell whatever bug was infecting his system. But surely this flu, or cold couldn't be that bad. Could it?

Even if he had questioned her, Catseye paid no attention to it. The scent coming from the older male interested her too much at the moment. She craned her neck to get closer to the scent's strongest point; John's mouth. She gave off a tiny mew, placing her paw onto John's lips, as though trying to pry his mouth open.

John kept his eyebrow arched, watching the cat curiously. He gave her tiny paw a nudge, and then gently moved her away from his face. He placed her back down onto his lap, and licked his lips. They were oddly dry all of a sudden. So was his throat. He swallowed, hoping the saliva would slick over his throat. He wound up coughing. Apparently his idea to wet his whistle didn't work. He coughed again, this time feeling something stirring inside him. After a few more coughs, and felt something like bile come up. Or maybe something like mucus. Only... it tasted like iron. Blood?

Catseye blinked and jumped when John coughed. She could smell what was in his throat and from here. But it wasn't the smell of the blood that was making her uneasy. It was something else. Catseye suddenly jumped off of John's lap, and up onto the table. She stood there, staring directly at John, her ears back against her head and her tail lowering itself. A yowl escaped her as she started to back away from her owner. Something scared her...

"Whoa theah, luv," he said, standing up and taking the glass of water with him. He took a mouthful of the liquid, and walked over to the sink. Once he reached the sink, he spat the water out. He groaned when he noticed the red swirling around in the water. That confirmed he had coughed up blood. "Ugh," he winced after a moment, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He then turned to lean against the counter, watching Catseye. At the same time he wondered if he should go to see a doctor. Bah, it was just a cold. Maybe a stomach flu. Whatever it was, it would be gone in a few days. Who needed doctors?

He felt that sickening feeling to cough again, to bring up bile that needed to come out. Quickly, he brought his glass of water to his lips and took a long swig. Like he really needed to cough up any more blood or other bodily fluids.

Catseye never took her eyes off of John for a single moment. When he had taken that second sip of water, she morphed into her were-form. She now crouched onto the table, glaring over at John. Her ears remained flat against her head, and her tail now swayed... though not in a playful manner. Her claws extended, sinking into the table under her as a low growl came from within her throat. Catseye never extended her claws in were-form. Not even when she was playing...

John let the glass fall into the sink, not caring if it broke or not. Mystique could replace it. Catseye was spooked about something. And that something seemed to be John. Something about him was scaring her enough to take a defensive stance. To tell the truth, it looked like she was about to attack any second.

"'Ey now, shiela..." John spoke softly, putting his hand into the pocket of his shorts. He grasped his hand around the clunky zippo lighter he constantly carried with him. One of the many in his collection. He started to edge away from the counter, moving around Catseye. "Calm yaself down, luv..." he continued, trying to coax her out of... whatever she was going through. He really didn't want to have to use fire on her, even if it was just to put some distance between them. Then again, he didn't want to have to back away from her like this, either.

Catseye squirmed backwards a little, and shifted her hips back and forth. She lowered her head, and bared her fangs, as well as keeping her claws dug deeply into the table. She leaned forward, eyeing John over. She ever so calmly climbed down the table, staying on all fours. As John moved, she moved with him. Stalking him. Or rather, whatever was giving off that scent inside of him.

John coughed again, and in his dismay swallowed the bile that had come up. He didn't have time to run to the sink, and he wasn't about to spit on the floor. Unlike the rest of the Brotherhood, like Mystique, John respected the house. He pulled the lighter out of his pocket, and hit the striker. "Oi didn' wanna 'ave t'do this," he admitted quietly. Never once had he used his powers on Catseye in a defensive manner. Always as fun, and for entertainment.

He beckoned the flame into his hand, and quickly shot it out in front of him. He used the movements of one hand to spread the flames, and of course, made sure he kept it under control, never burning anything. Once there was a 'wall' of fire, he quickly backed up into the living room. Once there, he coughed again. And again, swallowed the disgusting bile that threatened to come up. "Damn moy mannahs," he mumbled, and at the same time made a gesture with his hand, intent on dousing the flames.

Only the wouldn't go out. In fact, they became a little stronger.

Catseye had only managed a step, nevermind a pounce, before the wall of fire was spread out in front of her. She glared hard, moving closer to the flame, but instantly backing down when she felt it's heat against her face. She had learned from experience that fire could be a friend--in cases like Pyro's--or it could be a foe. And right now, it was her enemy. It was keeping her away from John. Snapping out of the angry trance she had been in, she backed away from the flames. She scooted backwards until she hit the counter. When the heat became stronger, and the flames came closer, her eyes widened. She started to frown, huddling herself against the cupboards, unable to do anything but watch as the flames nonintuitive to engorge themselves.

"Tha bloody 'ell?" John questioned, and again, made the same gesture. This time the flames obeyed his commands and shrunk back until they were nothing. Nothing but the smell of burning oxygen. It was the cold, flu--whatever. It had thrown off his concentration. That was it. Nothing to freak out over. And definitely nothing to tell the rest of the Brotherhood about. Why work them up over nothing? He just wouldn't use his powers for the next few days... Snapping out of his thoughts, he looked over at Catseye huddled up in the corner. He took one step forward, and then stopped, unsure of what she was going to do. "Ya... alroight, luv?" He asked, taking another step. "No moah yowlin'? No moah stalkin'?"

Catseye stayed where she was. Her ears were still flat against her head, but her claws had retracted, and she was frowning. She looked up at John, confusion written all too clearly on her innocent face. She couldn't smell anything anymore. Nothing but the remains of the fire that had been burning. "Catseye scared..." she said softly, frowning all the while.

"Well, ya scared meh, too," he said, coming right up to Catseye now. He knelt down in front of her and held out his hand. Even if it was shaking a little, he figured she wouldn't mind and would accept his offer. Just about the same time, he was forced to take in a deep breath. His stomach had just done a somersault. He groaned and winced, but quickly brushed it off. "Oi think Oi jus' moight go back t'bed," he smirked at Catseye. "Wanna come with meh, luv?"

Spending the day in bed sounded good now. Just laying under the covers and staring at the blackness behind his eyelids sounded so damn irresistible right now, it wasn't funny.

Catseye looked from his hand, to his face, and then back to his hand. Just as she was about to come closer, she sensed the change in his stomach again. Immediately, she scooted backwards, shaking her head. Almost like she was trying to get away from him. "No! Pyro bad!" She shouted, continuing to scoot backwards. Anymore and she'd probably go through the wall.

There was that smell again. Instantly her breath caught in her throat and her eyes began to glow. In an instant she had the older man pinned down. And her fangs started to descend for his neck. More specifically? His jugular.

"Bloody--!" He shouted, eyes wide. Screw the fact she had him pinned, it was the fact that her fangs were heading for his neck that mattered. He didn't want to have to do this... but he had to... Closing his eyes, he quickly brought one leg up, kneeing the younger girl in the stomach. Just hard enough to knock the air out of her. Simultaneously, he grabbed hold of her shoulders, and shifted both of their weights. Effortlessly, he tossed the girl across the floor; just enough to give him some space from her. Once that was done, he wasted no time in getting to his feet and backing out of the kitchen. "Oi'm not in tha roight shape t'be doin' this crap," he mumbled and placed a hand onto his stomach. His organs were doing flips again.

Catseye's eyes widened and her mouth opened with a tiny "oof" as the air was knocked out of her. Violently at that. When she was tossed to the floor, she let out a tiny yelp, her back hitting against the counter. She clutched at her stomach, trying to regain her normal breathing pattern. "Pyro..." she whimpered, then huddled herself into a ball on the floor.

Five AM. Five AM and Mystique was heading down the stairs in a not so happy mood. Who in the hell would be making this kind of racket this early in the morning? Of course the rest of the household slept through it. They were used to this kind of mayhem!

When she made finally stepped into the living room, she blinked when she noticed the resident pyromaniac. "Pyro what are you--" she mad her way over to him, then looked into the kitchen. Then she saw Catseye. "The two of you have a fight?" She said with a playful tone in her voice. But she soon frowned when she noticed John's expression. "Is everything alright?" She questioned, placing a hand gently onto his back as she looked him over.

"Luv, Oi--" he was about to apologize to Catseye when Mystique suddenly came into the room. When she spoke, he sighed, his back heaving more than it should have.

"Oi dunno whot got inta 'er. She jus'... well... snapped," he mumbled, looking behind him at his boss. Of course he wouldn't mention he felt like shit at the moment. Or that he would give anything to lean on this woman for support right now. Or fall on the floor and sleep.

Mystique's eyebrows furrowed forward suddenly. "Did she harm you?" She continued the interogation, now standing beside the younger male, her hand suddenly placed on his chest as she noticed him taking heaving breaths.

"No," John said, standing up straight now, though he wrapped an arm around his stomach. "But... Oi think Oi 'urt 'er..." he frowned, looking down and sighing again. Catseye had become one of the few people he trusted... and now this. What the hell was the world coming to? Guess it's true when they say you can't trust anyone.

John swallowed hard again, trying to get his throat wet again. Was it him, or was this... cold thing getting worse by the second?

Mystique frowned when she noticed Pyro frown. She noticed he put an arm around his stomach... If Catseye hadn't hurt him... then why did he look so beat up?

"Stay here," Mystique said softly, and then left John's side reluctantly. She walked into the kitchen, going for Catseye. Bending down, she placed a hand onto Catseye's shoulder gently. Mystique spoke to her calmly, and after a moment, the feline metamorph transformed into her tiny cat form. Mystique picked her up. Cradling the cat in her arms, she walked back into the living room to John.

"She's fine. A little shaken up, but fine." She assured the Aussie.

"Tha's good," he said softly, swallowing hard again. His throat was so dry it was making him gag.

Damn cold. Flu-- whatever. Just, damn it.

He lurched forward, absent mindedly, leaning onto Mystique. He whimpered a little; his body was being so... disobiediant. Sure, he had been sick before, never like this. And it never got so bad so fast, either. He letout one more tiny whimper before his eyes closed. Apparently from pure, utter, and sudden, exhaustion. His body fell slack against Mystique.

Mystique blinked when she noticed Pyro lean forward and lean against her. "John, are you--" she began but stopped when she felt his body go limp against her. "Pyro!" She called out, wincing as his weight was suddenly pushed onto her. All of it, all at once.

Carefully, she placed Catseye back onto the floor. The cat merely sat stalk still, never moving. Going back to the unconscious pyromaniac, Mystique gently shifted his weight against her. She looked over at her fallen team-mate and frowned. Hoisting his limp body over to the newest couch she had bestowed upon the Brotherhood. Gently, she placed him onto it. She watched him for a moment, then reached out with a blue hand to touch his forehead. Holy-- her eyes widened as she let her hand slowly move to rest on his cheek. He was boiling. Burning up even. And for Pyro, that was saying something. Pulling her hand away, she sighed softly, still frowning. If he had been sick... he should have said something...

Quietly, she turned on her heel and went back over to Catseye. She picked up the small feline, and cradled her once again. She then headed back upstairs intent on putting Catseye in her room, and keeping her there until they figured out what had gotten into the feline. Then she'd return to Pyro and watch over him until he woke up.


	2. Chapter 2: And the Bad News is

It had been a week. A week since that episode in the kitchen. John had convinced himself that it was only a cold. A really bad cold. Only by this time, a cold would have started to break. Not get worse. It was constantly getting worse. Possibly worse by the minute, if that was possible. The drowziness he felt had become pure exhaustion. The small fits of coughing had turned into an almost constant state of hacking and wheezing. The contractions he felt in his stomach were now always happening. Which made him on the brink of throwing up almost constantly. Within the last week it was rare he hadn't thrown up at least once a day.

Much to John's disliking, Mystique had played the worried team-mate and friend. Of all the times, why now? Or why couldn't he be some insignificant little insect to her like Toad, or the new guy, Wulff. She would careless if they up and got sick. Ok, ok, she'd care--but she wouldn't pester, bitch, complain and nag at them until they went to a hospital to get a check up. John had resisted it all for a few days. The nagging, whining, bitching, the threats--all of it. But it wasn't long before he gave into the blue woman. Without the will or energy to resist anymore, he ended up going. But he had only done it for her. And it didn't mean he liked the idea one bit.

So now he sat in the waiting room of one of the few hospitals in New York. Mystique at his side, of course. Like she would have let him go alone. He suspected she followed him to the hospital for comfort reasons of her own. And to make sure he didn't skip out on his appointment.

Ah, the love of a Boss like Mystique. One in a million.

Mystique sat by John's side, casually flipping through one of the many magazines the waiting room had. Though, unless you were Pyro, you probably wouldn't know this woman was indeed Mystique. She held the form of a young brunette woman with a pale complexion and bored brown eyes. No way they would have taken John into the hospital had she gone as herself.

She sighed, turning the page of the magazine and crossing one leg over the other. She looked rather irritated. How long did it take to see a damn doctor? She hated being patient. Especially when it came to flatscans. But she wouldn't dare complain. She was the one who had bitched, complained, whined, shouted, nagged and finally managed to convince John into getting checked out. After what happened the past week, she wasn't about to take any chances.

Still looking down at the magazine, she felt a tension forming in the waiting room. "What are the chances you get put into one of those fancy paper dresses?" She questioned Pyro, trying to lighten the mood. Though she didn't look up from her magazine.

John chuckled, though that ended in yet another fit of coughing. He hit a fist against his chest, regaining his normal breathing. Groaning, he leaned back in the chair, resting his head against the cool wall behind him. "Oi 'ave no oidea, luv." He mumbled, rubbing his chest a little.

God his chest burned. Ached. Itched. Irritated him to no end right now.

John sighed, looking up at the ceiling. He was tempted to start coutning the cracks and imperfections when a doctor finally came out into view. "John Allerdyce?" The young man called out, looking down at the clipboard in his hand. After a moment, he looked up, looking for his patient.

John groaned again. This time for two reasons. One, the guy had used his name. God he hated his real name. Two, he had to move now. He didn't want to move, he had actually managed to get comfortable. "Roight 'ere, mate," he mumbled and slowly hoisted himself up.

"Follow me, please, Mr. Allerdyce." _This guy looks like shit,_ the young doctor thought rather coldly.

Immediately, Mystique was on her feet the moment John stood up. She stood at his side, walking only when he started. She placed a hand on the small of his back, "you survived my bitching this long... you can survive another two feet," she smiled over at him warmly.

"Whot motivation," he smirked over at Mystique weakly. He gave a silent thanks that she was pushing him on like this. Had he had his way, he would have never moved from the couch this morning.

"Excuse me miss, but if you insist on coming into my office, I'll ask that you keep out of the way, please." The doctor said, though he didn't really care. He was just paid to say that. He quickly led Mystique and Pyro into a small office just down the hall from where they had been sitting. "Alright, if you'll take a seat, Mr. Allerdyce," he said and motioned towards the medical bed that sat in the office.

John nodded, and more than happily sat down on the bed. He watched the doctor for a moment, watching him walk around the room, getting various objects ready. Namely stethescopes, needles, cotton swabs and tongue depressers. Though after a moment, John just sort of stared off into space, at nothing in particular. He didn't even blink when the doctor walked back to him.

"I'm going to have to ask you to roll up your sleeve, Mr. Allerdyce. We need a blood sample." Simple proceedure. Take a blood test first, see if the patient was healthy flat out. Then go from there. It was that or a urine sample. And to be honest, this guy looked so out of it he'd probably miss the cup.

John jumped a little when the doctor had spoken, but at least it had snapped him back to reality. "Roight," he mumbled, still letting reality sink in ever so slowly. He rolled up the black sleeve on his arm just enough to pass his elbow.

Within the last two and half minutes, Mystique had kept a displeased look on her face, and merely stood by and watched as her team-mate became the lab-rat for some flatscan and his pointy objects. Had it not been for the benifit of Pyro's health, she would have never thought of going to a hospital. But he seemed bad off. And it was either this, a general hospital... or Hank McCoy of the X-Men. She'd pick public hospital any day.

The doctor glanced at Mystique for a moment. That stare would get anyone's attention. Turning back to John, he took his arm and gently pinched the skin at the very middle of it, right at the crook of the elbow. He took the needle he had taken over with him, and pushed it to one specific vien. After a moment and once the tip of the needle was embedded in the Aussie's skin, the doctor pulled the plunger back. Once the barrel was half way filled with John's blood, the doctor withdrew the needle. He put the protective sheeth onto the needle, then put it into his coat pocket. He took out a cottonball, and dabbed the tiny wound on John's arm over.

"I'll be back in a moment. I have to test this," the doctor said and then quickly left the room.

John looked down at his arm. He was silent for a moment, then, "well, tha' bloody 'urt," he mumbled, then looked over at Mystique. He rolled his sleeve back down at the same time, rubbing the spot the doctor had taken blood from. It was a little sore, nothing dire though.

Mystique smiled; at least John was attempting humor. "Oh, you'll live." The shapeshifter made her way over to her friend and team-mate, looking hard at him. Slowly, she put a hand to his forehead. She had done this every day for the last week--repeatedly. Call her paranoid, or a very caring friend. You pick. Either way, she was constantly watching over Pyro. A frown formed on her features again, "you're burning up. Again."

John sighed, brushing her hand away gently. "Ah, it's nothin' luv. Loike Oi said, jus' a cold." Even he was starting to think otherwise. Colds didn't do this to the human body. Honestly, he was starting to get scared. But he'd put on a brave front, for Mystique. And for himself. "Really. Oi'm gonna be jus' foine." He nodded lazily, trying to sound assuring.

Mystique sighed, forming a fist with the hand that had been placed on Pyro's burning forehead. She had her doubts it was just a 'cold' and that he would be 'just fine' as he put it, but tried to see it his way and just smile. "I hope you're right, St. John Allerdyce." She mumbled more or less to herself as he started to poke around the office again.

_Oi 'ope Oi'm roight too, Boss,_ he thought absent mindedly to himself. He let himself fall back onto the medical bed. John stared up at the ceiling for a moment. Again, he was tempted to start counting the cracks and imperfections. And again, the doctor seemed to come in on que.

"'Ey, whot's up, doc?" He asked over at the doctor, who seemed to be scowling rather hard at the young Aussie. John just stared back as well as could, despite the fact the room was spinning suddenly. "Whot? Bad blood?" He smirked. This earned a giggle from Mystique.

"Damn right it's bad blood." The doctor said, practically stomping over to John. "I want you out of this hospital. Now."

"Excuse me?" Mystique butted into the conversation. "Why does he have to leave?"

The doctor looked over at Mystique, "I'm sorry to inform you miss, but your friend here, he's a mutant." He pointed back over at Pyro who stared dumbly at the two other occupants in the room.

Mystique glared visibly. "Bad blood? Being a mutant is bad blood?" Had she really wanted to get Pyro in trouble, she would have revealed herself. But there was nothing wrong with a human woman standing up for mutant rights. Straights did it all the time for gays. Like that woman on Queer as Folk, Debbi Novotny.

Something inside John seemed to just go out the window. Perhaps it was his sanity. Maybe it was self control. Whatever it was, it was gone. And for the moment, he was happy about it. "Bad blood, ya say?" He questioned the doctor, smirking at him. "Ya think mutants 'ave bad blood? Tha' we'ah th' rot o' th' crop when it comes t' you 'omo sapiens?" He slowly got off of the bed, and walked over to the doctor. "We'ah th' bad seeds, ruinin' ya perfect soil, are we?" Absent mindedly, he reached into his pocket, and retrived his lighter. "Maybeh ya should see whot this bad seed can do, eh, mate?" He flicked the lighter open, and hit the striker. The flame on the tip instantly came to life, fanning out in front of John before swirling around eagerly.

Mystique had been silent for most of his speech. Had this been any other situation, she would have let Pyro kill the guy. But not now. "Pyro, that's enough!" she said sternly, reaching over to touch his arm. John looked over at her, and then to the flame. He blinked, and just as quickly as whatever had left him left, it came right back. The fire calmed, and was once again just a mere flame on the end of the lighter. "Myst-- Boss... whot 'ave--" He would have finished the question, but was cut off by searing pain suddenly coarsing through his head. Like a migraine. Only a hundred times worse.

Now Mystique knew something was wrong. Quickly taking the lighter from his hand and closing it, she hugged Pyro to her body. "It's alright..." she cooed, and then looked at the doctor. "We'll leave. Just tell me what's wrong with him." She spoke as though that information would be her life line.

The doctor, who had been terrified at this point blinked a few dozen times. He collected himself, and slowly managed to form a sentence. "H-he's has the Legacy Virus."


	3. Chapter 3: New Understanding

_Catseye made her way down one particularly crowded Bayville street in her tiny cat form. She stopped, scratching an itch behind her ear. She had seated herself in the middle of the sidewalk. And like any cat would, attracted the attention of three little kids. "Look, a kitty!" One little girl practically squealed as she bent down to look at the feline in front of her._

_"I wanna kick it," one of the two little boys stated, grinning happily._

_"But," the other little boy by his side groaned, "we did that yesterday." It was tradition for the two of them to kick small animals that wandered the streets astray._

_"Whot're ya kids arguin' 'bout?" A sudden Australian accent interrupted the little spat that had started up._

_The two little boys looked up at the Aussie, while the little girl stayed bent down, trying to beckon the cat over to her. "It's a kitty," the little girl then smiled, not even looking back at whomever had spoken. _

_Now of course, Catseye was utterly confused. Not only did she have no idea what these people were saying, but so many humans had crowded around her. The kids frightened her, while the much older man interested her. He sounded different than the kids, and seemed a lot calmer. Perhaps even friendly._

_"We're gonna kick it," one little boy smiled up at the Aussie._

_"Ya not gonna kick it," the Aussie shooed the kids away from the cat. "Go foind some othah defenseless animal t' kick o' somethin'," he mumbled, all the while shooing them away. The kids left, not bothering to argue. Though the little girl happily had informed the Aussie that she had no intention to kick the tiny animal. _

_Once the children had left, so did the Aussie, leaving Catseye alone. And it only took mere moments before she mustered up the courage to give into her curiousity and follow the Aussie to wherever he was planning on going..._

Catseye woke with a jump. She had been doing that during her sleep a lot; dreaming. It frightened her sometimes. So many of these images that passed throughout her head made no sense whatsoever. They were just jumbled images, with too many voices and sounds for her to comprehend.

But this one... She knew this dream. Because it wasn't a dream. It was a memory. That had been the first time the young meta-morph had met the pyromaniac. Since that moment, she never let the Aussie out of her sight. And the reverse could be said about the Aussie. John never let Catseye wander far from his sight. And when he did, he made sure to know where she was, who she was with, and if possible when they would be back.

Though for a long time she had only showed herself as tiny cat, John had treated her like a princess. And his affection only grew when he found out she was indeed a human girl. A human girl trapped in the mind of a cat. She had been brought up by cats, abandonned by her family. Catseye had no idea what being human was like; she only knew how to be a cat. And the thought of being entirely human scared her more than any human she had ever encountered.

But for John? She'd try to endure humanity for him.

As of late though, she had been showing her affection in very odd ways. Namely almost killing Pyro. But she hadn't meant it like that... She had meant to take the sickness inside of him away. And it was instinct for her to attack something that she didn't like... She definately didn't expect Pyro to shoot her off of him like that, or wind up locked up in Mystique's room for the last week.

The cat-girl had tried so hard to promise she wouldn't hurt John again. But she couldn't get the words, or even the actions right. She ended up getting frustrated and becoming rather irritable. And that was basically why Mystique had kept her in her room. She had no idea what the cat-girl's actions meant, and assumed she needed some isolation...

But Mystique had gone with John today. Gone to some place Catseye didn't know. So she had been left in Wulff's care. The only other person Catseye trusted.

Wulff was a runaway who happened to have stumbled upon Catseye a few months back. Being more wolf than human, he had given into the urge to chase the cat when he found her. And in turn, she lead him right back to the Boarding house. Mystique had met him at the door. Once the blue woman had seen the powers this young man had, she more than happily welcomed him into her home with open arms. Since he had been stuck with the cat, he managed to find some way to form a bond with her. A brother and sister type of bond...

But Catseye didn't want that at the moment. She didn't want the wolf-boy who sat across the room from her, staring out the window without a care in the world. She wanted John. Every minute without the Aussie strained her for some reason. It made her feel things she had never felt on the streets. Stress, sadness, loneliness...

While Wulff sat staring out the window, watching who knows what, Catseye sat herself up on his bed and slowly brought her knees to her chest. Catseye wasn't quite sure what this feeling was, but there was something in her throat that she couldn't swallow. Something stung at her eyes, and then water started to leak from them. For the first time in her life, Catseye was crying.

Upon smelling the salty elixir that was leaking from the young girl's eyes, Wulff turned on instinct. He leaned his head down for a moment, then cocked an eyebrow. "Why're you crying?" He groaned, hating to do this whole 'caring' thing.

"P-Pyro," Catseye stammered out between soft sobs. Her shoulders shook gently as her body convulsed in tiny spasms.

"What about him?" Wulff asked, hoping she didn't somehow managed to learn the phrase 'what's wrong with him'. He knew what was wrong with him. He'd smelt it from day one. Sure, the wolfen could have told the Aussie what was wrong... but it wasn't his place. The pyro didn't ask, and it wasn't Wulff's life. And besides, no one else seemed to care...

Catseye closed her eyes for a moment, as though trying to get the words formed. "Pyro!" she shouted, angry with herself once more that she couldn't form the right words. All she wanted to say was she missed him. That she wanted to see him. She'd behave... she'd promise!

Wulff groaned, slowly going over to the bed and sitting beside the huddled cat. He easily could sense the sadness in her and frowned a tiny bit. "You miss him, don't you?"

Miss... that was the word she couldn't find! Slowly, she pieced together the words and suddenly looked up, her amber eyes glassy with tears. "Yes!" She scooted closer to Wulff now, tears absently running down her cheeks. "Puppy...miss Pyro?" she questioned him with sad eyes.

Ah that nickname she had given him. He swore it'd never get old, and she would never let him live it down... But did he miss Pyro? Did he really? No. He really didn't care. "Yeah," Wulff decided it'd be best to just make the girl feel like the feeling was mutual. "But he'll be back soon, and then you can go see him." He tried to assure her. Sighing, he brought her into a one armed hug.

Catseye more than gratefully snuggled up to the older boy. She buried her face into his neck, nuzzling him to comfort herself. She had understood the last part, and that was all that mattered. That she'd be able to see Pyro soon.

When John arrived home, he hadn't done much. He had simply headed up to his bedroom, and literally locked himself behind his door. Various times people had come knocking on his door, wanting to know what had happened. Everytime they received no answer. In time everyone had ended up in the living room, gathered around Mystique. She had then proceeded to tell them the grave news, which, surprisingly the Brotherhood hadn't taken too well. Pietro had gone surprisingly still. Fred had managed to muster up a rather gloomy expression. Todd, who usually had a smart remark for every situation, was silent. Lance, who usually didn't care, looked surprisingly saddened by the news. And Wanda had managed a frown.

A member of their team was sick. A member of their family was dying...

Now when it came down to Wulff and Catseye, Catseye hadn't understood what 'Legacy Virus' meant. She furrowed her brow, searching her limited vocabulary. When she found no matching words, she tugged on Wulff, who was surprisingly quiet. Even if he didn't care, he had respect and knew when to use it. Now was one of those times.

Wulff had calmly explained to Catseye later on that John was sick. He tried his best to explain what sickness was, and when he was sure Catseye understood he sent her off to see John. Wulff was certain the cat wouldn't attack the Aussie again. Not now that she knew what was going on inside of him. She knew it was dangerous, but there was nothing she could do. And the sad understanding showed her in amber eyes.


	4. Chapter 4: True Brotherhood

**Notes:** I'm well aware that Catseye's real name is Sharon. But that's in the comics, not my own little universe that has nothing to do with the comic story of Catseye.

* * *

Twenty-four hours, ten minutes and six seconds. That's how long it had been since John had come home from the hospital. Once he had been handed the news, he instantly joked. Mystique had disapproved. At least he had tried to keep the mood light... What good would dwelling in something so depressing do? He certainly could not see anything good behind that logic. 

But once he had time to let it sink in, namely when he had gotten into the car for the ride home, that was when he thought about it. And he saw it the way Mystique had; he saw the horrific, depressing, reality he was suddenly forced into. He had a virus that attacked and killed only mutants. He was slowly dying.

To think, that was the smaller, less important thought running through his mind at the time.

The deep thoughts started happening when he ended up locking himself in his bedroom twenty-four hours, twelve minutes and eight-teen seconds ago. How long did he have exactly? Days? Weeks? Months? Years? Would he get to see his newest novel become a bestseller? Would he even get to finish said novel? Would he ever be able to escape the life of a torrid gothic romance novelist, and show the world he could do so much better? Maybe show the world he could write a real romance, and not one based on lust? Would he have time to potentially make a mends for every wrong he had done? When death finally came for him, would it hurt? Would it be slow and agonizing? Maybe quick and painless?

So many questions. So little time. And no answers.

John lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling. At this point he was even too tired and exhausted to sleep. He had gone beyond the point of tired, and was now stuck in a zombie like state. No matter how spent his body was, he couldn't sleep. So he wound up doing the next best thing, spacing out. At first, spacing was fine, perfect in fact. It let his mind just wander. At times there wasn't a single thought in his mind, and he had to admit, it was something of a relief. But then reality crept on him, slowly from the back of his mind. Slowly the thoughts that plagued him in the car came back.

John sighed, turning onto his stomach and pushing his face into a pillow. Out of all the bloody mutants in the world, why did this have to happen to him? He had a good thing going; a lusting love of fire, a rising writing career, a good life with the Brotherhood, and of course the neverending adrenaline rush that came with that membership. Although life with the Brotherhood could be a little rocky sometimes, he never regretted a single moment since his joining. Especially those moments he could have said he 'lived for'. Special moments that just made life worth living sometimes.

God what he wouldn't give to feel that way now. Just to have one of those moments where every ounce of pain went away. A moment where he could say he was proud to be alive and relish in the sheer glory of being Pyro of the Brotherhood... But all of that seemed so far away now, it was incomprehensible. It felt like forever since he felt like he was living. Since he felt alive. And he had to admit it was sad to think he'd never feel like that again. Considering as he thought this, laying motionless on his bed, he was slowly dying.

Outside of John's bedroom door, Casteye sat huddled. Her knees were drawn to her chest, her arms locked around her legs. Her forehead rested on her knees, lavender hair falling around her face, hiding her from all eyes. She had spent the night outside of John's bedroom. Oddly, he hadn't let her in, no matter how many times she knocked or called out to him. He hadn't even answered her. At first she thought maybe he had left the room, or was sleeping. But she heard more movement than a sleeping person usually made. Not to mention his breathing wasn't shallow and slow, unlike a sleeping person's would have been.

Why was he ignoring her? What did she do wrong this time? Well, whatever it was that had put this sudden distance between her and her owner, she was sorry for it. Even if she didn't know what she was sorry for, she felt she needed to apologize. She felt, like when she was on the streets, everything was somehow her fault.

Why was he doing this? Not even he knew. It wasn't like he was familiar with the Aussie or whatnot. But the instinct just came naturally as he played the role of 'older brother' of the entire Brotherhood. Lance stalked his way up the staircase slowly, trying to figure out just how to approach this situation. It definately wasn't going to be as easy as counseling Toad with his ongoing Wanda problem. So he took his time heading upstairs, figuring out just what he was going to do.

By the time he had made his way upstairs, Lance frowned visibly. Catseye was slumped up against the wall, face buried into her knees. Before going to John's door, he watched the young cat-girl for a moment then sighed. This caused Catseye to look up, her feline ears perking up atop her head. "Pyro?" She questioned Lance, then frowned when she noticed him shake his head. Quickly she resumed her prior posture. _Poor kid_, Lance thought to himself as he knocked on John's door now.

No answer.

Why did they always have to do this the hard way? "You got two seconds to open this door before I bring it down," he warned, glaring at the wooden door in front of him.

Still no answer.

Sighing, Lance pinched at the bridge of his nose. "C'mon, Johnny. Mystique says I ain't allowed to bring the house down as long as you're sick. So, give us all a break and open the goddamn door!"

There was the sudden sound of shuffling inside the room, and then the sound of the lock being unlatched. Then more shuffling and something that sounded like bending springs. Lance reached out for the doorknob, figuring that had been Pyro's invitation to come in.

Catseye looked up then Lance reached out to the doorknob and again her ears perked up. "Catseye see Pyro?" She questioned the older male, amber eyes practically pleading.

Before turning the knob, Lance looked over at Catseye, "not yet... Maybe in a few minutes, alright? I gotta talk to him first."

Catseye sighed and nodded, faintly understanding. But she knew she had to wait to see John, and that was all that mattered.

Lance sighed as well, and finally let himself into Pyro's bedroom. He closed the door behind him and locked it just to make sure Catseye didn't try to be sneaky. The bedroom was dimly lit, only a few stray rays of sunshine entering through the cracks in the shutters. John lay on his stomach again, face pushed into his pillow. This made Lance cock an eyebrow as he walked over to the sick Aussie.

"Don't tell me you're dead," he mumbled, plopping himself down onto Pyro's bed. John groaned when the bed moved under him, and caused him to move as well.

"Good, you're not dead." Lance said and reached over to push John back onto his back, or even his side. "So stop trying to suffocate yourself, alright, man?" He gave John a playful smirk.

Much to John's annoyance he was moved onto his side, and gave a glare to Lance in return for the smirk. "Whot do ya wont?" He mumbled, then slowly moved onto his back.

Lance shrugged, "just checking up on you... No one else has the guts to come up here and talk to you. Except maybe Kisa." Lance paused, not used to calling Catseye by the name John had given her a few months back. "She's been outside your door for the last day or so..."

John looked away when Lance mentioned what Catseye was doing for him. Now that was kind of heartwrenching. But what made it worse was he knew she had been there. "Oi know she's out theah, mate. Jus' 'aven' 'ad th'... enahgy t' get outta bed," he mumbled and looked back at Lance ever so slowly. "As fo' you... Whoy'd ya even bothah comin'? S'not loike Oi'm gettin' any bettah, so whoy come t' check on me?"

Lance frowned again. It was true, no one ever got better from Legacy, they only got worse until... "Hey, it never kill-- er-- it never hurt to try and be nice, right?" Lance said, quickly correcting his sentence.

John sighed and eyed the young American man in front of him. "Be noice all ya wont, but it's not loike Oi can do mucha anythin' 'soides lay 'ere an' wait fo' death t' come a-knockin'," he smirked a little at his rather sad statement.

"Oh come on, Johnny!" Lance said, suddenly raising his voice, though he wasn't shouting. "We're the Brotherhood of Evil Mutants! We don't take nothin' lying down," he smirked at Pyro now, a smirk full of life. "Not even death. So get up off your lazy Aussie butt."

John cocked an eyebrow at Lance's sudden proud mannerisms. Ever so slowly he let a grin claim his lips, and that was soon accompanied by laughter. "Oi, surproisingly, couldn'a put it bettah moyself, Rocky." As he spoke he pushed himself up, sitting up on his bed. Once he was up straight again, he instantly started to wheeze and cough.

Lance watched as John's coughing fit died down into nothing more than deep breaths and panting. "Hey...uh, you ok, man?" the rock tumbler asked, wincing as he noticed John was really having a hard time to regain his normal breathing pattern.

"Oi'm...foine," John mumbled back, then cleared his throat. He then moved himself off of the bed. It took a moment to gain his footing, not only because he was tired, but laying down for so long made him a little dizzy.

"You sure? You look..." Lance started, getting off of the bed to stand beside the older Aussie.

"Loike shit, Oi know." John smirked at Lance, and started to head for the door. Though he kept a hand on the wall, as though reminding himself to keep his blance.

"Nicely put," Lance commented, opening the door for his team-mate. "Have you eaten since you got home?" He asked as Pyro stepped outside the bedroom.

John shook his head, and then looked down to Catseye who had instantly looked up when her owner came out from behind the door. "Nah, 'aven' 'ad anythin'," he mumbled, kneeling and holding out a hand to Catseye. Lance stood back and watched.

Catseye looked at Pyro's hand for a moment, and then to his face. "Kisa sorry..." she mumbled and then moved to take his hand.

Now John had no real idea as to what she was apologizing for. But whether it was for attacking him the other day, or something she had thought she done wrong, it didn't matter. "Don' be sorry, luv. It's alroight." He took her hand into his, and stood, bringing her with him.

Catseye smiled and nodded softly. Though she wrinkled her nose. She could smell the sickness inside him, and it annoyed her to no end. But not for the same reason as it had the other day. Now because she knew what was wrong, to an extent, and couldn't do anything about it. All she could do was the exact same the rest of the Brotherhood could do... sit back, watch and let nature take it's course.

Lance smiled a little seeing the cat-girl finally calm around the Aussie again. "C'mon, let's get you something to eat," he said and gave John's shoulder a tiny pat before walking downstairs.


	5. Chapter 5: Silent Movies

**Notes:** Short chapter, I know... sucks. But, I promise, the next chapter will be long and worth it!

* * *

It had been fourty-eight hours since Lance managed to get Pyro out of his room.

He had had a long two days of interacting with the rest of the Brotherhood and their false smiles. He could see right through them, it was sickening. He wasn't a fool, he knew what they thought, and how they looked at him with pity in their eyes. That was the last thing he wanted, pity. But being the good friend and team-mate he was, he went along with their facade. And as they had acted like nothing was wrong, he acted as though he never saw through them as though they hid behing glass.

But now, he was currently back in the sanctuary of his room. Away from the mayhem the house always had going, and engrossing himself in a world all his own. Literally. He sat on his bed with his legs crossed, fingers poised on the keys of the laptop on his lap, ready to type when an idea hit.

He had been waiting for that idea to hit for the last hour or so. Apparently, it wasn't coming. "Bloody 'ell," he muttered, shoving the laptop off of his aching and sleeping legs. "Wroitah's block. Figahs," he continued to mutter, uncrossing his legs and then swinging them off of the bed. He was tempted to get up and storm out of the room, though the tingling sensation in his legs told him to wait. If he stood now, he probably would end up flat on his face. And with the way he had been feeling lately, more pain was the last thing he needed.

They hadn't kidded when they said Legacy was a constant pain. Once the disease settled in, studied the mutant's system and adjusted, it seemed to know just what kind of pain to cause. John's pain? He felt like he was always on fire, burning up on the inside. That was usually accompanied by sharp, stabbing pains throughout his body, and dull, long aches within his muscles.

Needless to say at the moment he was happy he couldn't feel his legs from the knee down.

While waiting for the feeling to come back into his limbs, he flopped back onto his bed. The bounce of the matress made him cough a few times, but nothing too serious. Once the tiny coughing fit was over, he took a deep breath and closed his eyes. And it seemed even then he wasn't allowed to get any peace, as a gentle knocking sounded on his door. "Gaah, bloody-- Whot!" He shouted, never moving, or opening his eyes.

"Pyro?" The cat-girl's voice came cautiously from behind the wooden barrier.

Now, he sat up. "Oh, Kisa..." He looked down at his legs, and swung them slightly. They tingled and pricked; the good old pins and needles feeling. "C'mon on in, luv. Doah's open." He said and stood slowly up on tingling legs.

The door opened slowly, and Catseye walked in. She eyed John over for a moment as the older Aussie cursed at his legs as the blood that was returning to his system. "Whot can Oi do fo' ya?" He questioned, slowly sitting himself back down onto the bed. Ah, it felt good to have the feeling back. That would be until the pains started again, anyway.

"Kisa stay Pyro?" She questioned very quietly, meaning she wanted to spend time with the older man. For the last two days she had stayed close, but never once had the Aussie to herself. Call her greedy, but she felt dejected!

He smiled warmly over at her, nodding. "O' course ya can." He then furrowed his brow and looked around the room, "but in this dull ol' room? Koinda borin' in 'ere," he chuckled and stood. "'Ow's 'bout you 'n' meh go downstaihs 'n'..." He had to stop, trying to figure out just what the could do that was fun, and wouldn't require leaving the house. He was certain he wouldn't be much fun outside. He barely had the energy to walk down the stairs, nevermind around the city!

A smile soon claimed his lips and he put a hand on Catseye's shoulder, "'ow's 'bout we wotch a movie?"

Catseye smiled, looking at John's hand on her shoulder. But soon she tilted her head and blinked up at the older man. "Movie?" It was like he spoke some other langauge to her suddenly. She had no idea what a movie was. Hell, she didn't even really know what a television was. Why would she? She had no interest in such trivial, human things.

John chuckled a little and nodded, "yeah, a movie. C'mon."

Slowly, more for his own sake, John lead the cat-girl into the living room. After sitting her down onto the couch, he walked over to the very limited selection of movies the Brotherhood owned. He eyed over the movies that were his own, and then Mystique's collection. But he quickly reminded himself they were watching this for Catseye's sake. Instantly he moved to other movies, hoping they had something childish she'd be able to keep up with. He seriously doubted she'd be able to keep up with the storyline of The Crow. He sighed as he was forced to bend down to look on the lower shelf. There were a few movies in plain black cases, which he guessed were either Lance's personal things... or Pietro's porn. Then one specific box caught his eye. It was thicker than the others, plastic too. "Well, Oi'll be..." He took the box into his hand and cocked an eyebrow, "a bleedin' Disney movie... Must be Toad's," he mumbled to himself. That would be the only logical reason why this movie was here. Toad was the youngest of the Brotherhood, and he was one of the few that managed to keep a few mementos from his childhood.

"Well, luv," he held up the video, "'ow 'bout th' Loion King?" He couldn't help the smirk that formed on his lips. It had been aged since he watched a Disney movie... Hell, it had been ages since he acted like a child.

Catseye cocked an eyebrow, then tilted her head to the side. Casually, she walked over to Pyro, and then looked at the box. Her eyes lit up as she noticed the pretty colors and animation on it. Quickly, she snatched the video out of Pyro's hands and held it to her chest. "Kisa's!"

John chuckled and gently took the movie back, "no, luv not yoahs." She pouted, he caved. "Alroight, ya can 'ave it. But Oi think you'll loike th' movie bettah than th' box."

As he took the tape out of the box, and looked at the insides, making sure the tape was rewound. While he did that, Catseye pouted and moved to the shelf he had been at earlier. She grabbed a random movie and then held it out to Pyro, "this one."

John turned to face Catseye for a moment, and glanced at the movie she had taken. The Crow; "well, Oi'll say one thin', luv. Ya got good taste, but we'ah not wotchin' tha' one." He smiled and held out the box for the Lion King again, "we'ah wotchin' this one."

Catseye pouted again, holding the movie she had against her body. She only wanted to watch it because she had seen John looking at it before. So she figured he wanted to watch this, and not what he had picked out. She only wanted to make him happy and do something he wanted to for a change... "This one," she persisted, mumbling and holding the movie out again.

He smiled and gently patted her head, "next toime, alroight? Oi promise." He gently took the tape from her hands, and placed it back onto the shelf she had taken it from. Before putting the movie in the VCR he made sure to sit her down, and told her to stay put. But even so, the moment he turned his back on her, she was up and at his side, watching every move he made. Once the movie was in the VCR, he gently tugged Catseye over to the couch, remote in hand. Sitting down with the girl, he fast-forwarded the previews in the beginning, and once the movie started, he let it go.

The moment the images popped up on the screen, and they started to sing the opening song, Catseye's ears perked up and her eyes widened. It was as though she had just been introduced to the best thing ever given to man. When she started to writher, like she wanted to get closer, John instantly wrapped an arm around her to keep her still.

By the time the movie was half way through, Catseye and Pyro had moved into a much more comfortable position. He now lay on his back with his head on the arm of the couch, while Catseye lay on him, her head on his chest. After a while he put a hand on her back, just so he could put it somewhere else other than behind his head. It had started to cramp and tingle... and with the pains that seemed to be naturally in his body now, that was the last thing he needed.

He had to admit, he liked this. He liked watching this cartoon, childish movie with her and relaxing like this. For the duration of the movie, he could forget he was sick and just be alive for the moment. Even if he was hurting, hacking and coughing sometimes, it didn't matter. All that mattered was this movie, and being with Catseye for the time being.


End file.
